The Color Gravy
by kalyn19
Summary: What will Sam do when her best friend overthinks the reason behind her favorite color and a certain nub was milking it for more than its worth? Implied Seddie


Hey guys! I know, I know. I'm supposed to be updating a certain anecdote-series or a multi-chapter right now, but I can't bring myself to. I'm so sorry! Anyway, I hope this one-shot can keep you guys patient a little more while. I promise I'll try to update as soon as possible.

I wrote this about roughly 6 months ago, before the other stories. So I'm sorry if the writing's a bit off from what you're used to. I just finished it last night so I could give you guys something while you wait for me to update.

Bored you long enough, huh? Please enjoy the story. Cookie, anyone?

Disclaimer: I do not own the title or the characters of iCarly. They belong to Dan Schneider and his bakery, who are - in ever way - awesome.

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><p><strong>The Color Gravy<strong>

One Shot

Carly had to admit, she was a little confused by Sam's favorite color, or rather, the reason behind it. At the time, it didn't sound questionable, seeing as though her best friend loves food. Something still kept nagging at her though, and she's more than determined to find out what it was.

The door of the Shay apartment opened, and in came Carly and Sam. They both put their bags on the couch. Sam sat next to them while Carly went to the kitchen to get a snack.

"You got any food?" Sam called out, reaching for the remote at the table.

Carly looked back at her. "No, Sam, we don't have food," she said in a joking manner.

Sam's head snapped towards her. "What'chu talking about, Shay?"

Her best friend laughed. "I think we still have some fried chicken from last night-"

She was cut off by Sam, who ran into the kitchen faster than a cat after a mouse. She shoved Carly out of the way and attacked the fridge. "Here fried chicken, come to Momma!"

Carly stepped back and rolled her eyes, chuckling at her food obsessed friend.

Just then, a knock came from the door. Shortly afterwards, Freddie entered the apartment holding a complicated-looking modem with wires sticking out of it.

"Hey Carly!" he greeted enthusiastically, then in a more somber tone, "Sam." He raised his eyebrow at Sam, half her body inside the fridge.

Carly turned to her, but not before greeting Freddie back. "Sam, if you want to eat it, take it out of the fridge first!"

The blonde obliged, carrying the tray of half-eaten chicken out of the fridge. She had a part of it in her mouth and she was chewing happily.

Freddie shook his head. "Can I just run upstairs and connect this-"

Before he got into any detailed description of what he was holding, Sam cut him off. "Yeah yeah. Go up and do your tech stuff upstairs. Your nerding up the atmosphere."

"Sam!" Carly reprimanded.

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Atleast I'm not pigging out on someone else's dinner table."

Sam lazed her eyes at him, as if saying she didn't really care what he said. "Is that the best you got, Fredwart?"

Before Freddie could retort, Carly urged him to go upstairs. He obliged and ran up the stairs, but not before glaring at Sam.

Once he was out of sight, Carly turned to her best friend who was almost a quarter through the chicken. "Do you really have to be so mean to the guy?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yes, I can't help it if he's such a nub all the time!" Before Carly could defend Freddie, Sam changed the subject. "You got any gravy?"

The brunette blinked. "Uhm, yeah, I think so. But..." Suddenly, an idea came to her. An evil smirk came upon her lips. Her best friend wasn't able to see for she was hungrily searching the fridge for some gravy to re-heat.

"But what?" came the muffled reply.

"Well..." Carly hesitated, sweetening her tone into that of innocence.

Sam pulled herself out of the fridge, triumphantly carrying a tub of gravy. She walked over to the microwave and put it in. "Well what? Spit it out, Shay!"

Carly smiled deviously. "Remember when you said that your favorite color is brown?"

Sam raised her eyebrow. She shrugged in a duh-manner. "Yeah?"

"Interesting," was all Carly said as she crossed the kitchen countertop towards the sofa.

Now Sam was confused. "What do you mean?"

Carly sat on the sofa, throwing the red pillow at her side. "Oh nothing... it's just..." she trailed off then gave a small chuckle.

The microwave pinged, and being Sam, she immediately turned to extract her beloved gravy. She carried it to the table and dipped the whole chicken leg in the gravy. She took a bite, impatiently waiting for her best friend to continue. When she didn't Sam sighed. "What?"

Carly turned to her, her eyebrow quirked a certain way. "Have you ever noticed Freddie's eyes?"

Sam almost choked, but managed to cover it up with a forceful swallow of the chicken meat. When she regained her voice, she asked hoarsely, "Why would I look into those nub's eyes?"

The looks her friend gave her didn't sit well with Sam. Too bad for her, it just fueled Carly's interest all the more. "Maybe because they're your favorite color?"

Just then, Freddie came jogging down the stairs, finished with his task. "Hey guys! Who's favorite color?"

"Shut it, Freddork."

"Oh real mature, Sam."

"Quit it!" Carly hissed, a force of habit. Then she regained composure. "I was just telling Sam here that your eyes are brown."

Freddie blinked in confusion. "Yeah, so?"

Sam glared at him. "Stay out of this!" She didn't know why, but she didn't want Freddie to know her favorite color. It might give him... ideas. She shot Carly a dirty look, which her best friend chose to ignore.

Carly continued, "Well, brown is her favorite color!"

"It's the color of gravy!" Sam shouted indignantly in her attempt to defend herself.

Freddie wasn't the least bit moved. Thinking it was a joke, he turned to Sam and smirked. He knew he would probably get his arm broken.

"Don't get any ideas, Fredwierdo," Sam hissed, her blue eyes piercing. "You're lucky you have eyes the color of gravy."

Carly rolled her eyes. "Sam!"

"Maybe it's not just a coincidence?" Freddie inquired, bent on irritating Sam.

"Maybe I should punch your face!" was Sam's angry reply.

"You guys!"

"Why would you do that?" Freddie continued, a twinkle in his eye, "Do you like me, Sam?"

Sam looked disgusted, but a blush was seemingly visible on her cheek. "Eww, gross!"

Carly was about to shout something, but caught herself in time. Just this once, she's going to sit this one out and watch the two argue.

Freddie stepped forward, his smirk growing. He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?" he persisted.

Sam hated the smug look on the boy's face. She glared at him head on, violently ripping a mouthful of the gravy covered chicken leg before chewing. "No way!"

He knew he was so going to get beaten up, but Freddie was having too much fun. "Just admit it Sam!" he cooed sweety, "Come on, I can take it!"

"I'd like to take you to the dumpster down the street," Sam replied viciously as she glared at him.

"The one with the hobo dressed like Santa Claus?" Freddie asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You're a hobo dressed like Santa Claus!" Sam hissed.

He was getting on her nerves, and it didn't help that her chicken leg was almost gone.

Much to her irritation, Freddie looked more smug than ever. "But you still like me?"

Sam groaned. She didn't know why, but she was so not comfortable with this topic. "Would you cut it out? You're gonna make me chunk out all the meat I just ate!"

"Eww! Don't do it, I just mopped the floor!" Carly couldn't help but chip in, worry in her voice.

Neither of the the bickering duo turned to her. Freddie was busy smirking at Sam and Sam was busy glaring at Freddie.

Sam could see that Freddie was about to say something and desperately wanted to wipe the smug look on his face. "Not. Another. Word."

Freddie couldn't resist. "Seems to me like you're protesting too much,"

And what was he implying? "Seems to me like you're wanting your face kicked."

"You'd risk damaging my face?" he asked, stroking his chin with his thumb and index finger. "My face with the," he batted his eyelashes as an added spite, "gravy-colored eyes?"

"You make me sick!" she sneered.

"And yet you still like me,"

"That's it!"

What happened next was a bit of a shock, but Freddie knew he somehow had it coming.

Sam took the tub of freshly nuked gravy and dumped it on his head. After a few moments of watching the gravy drip down his head, she walked away. She took her backpack behind Carly on the couch and went for the door.

"Later." Slam!

Freddie just stood there, willing himself not to squirm girlishly as the gravy trickled into his shirt and down his back.

Carly half-rose from the couch, her hand on the arm rest. She looked sad. "Aww, my clean floor!"

_Oh, well,_ she thought, trying not to think about how hard getting the gravy stains out from the floor would be. _Atleast we learned something from it._

Carly learned never to spite her best friend - unless she wants to spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning the mess.

Freddie learned that no matter how many victories he has over the blonde-headed demon, she'd still pay him back. Hard.

Sam learned to be just a little more careful when explaining her favorite color.

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><p>Well, there you have it! I'm sorry it didn't end up with them being together. It just... doesn't feel right, you know? The whole 'whoops-i-slipped-my-secret's-out' plot is a bit overused in this fandombudding cannon ship, so I'd rather not use it. I still hope it had enough seddie for you guys, though.

Thank you for reading! If it's not too much to ask, please review!

Lots of love,

~kalyn19


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